


Petrified Past Life Baggage

by lakesandquarries



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Frisk, Chara Has Issues, Chara Is Not Evil, Chara and Frisk Share a Body, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, Frisk Has Issues, Gen, Narrator Chara, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sans Has Issues, Selectively Mute Frisk, Self Harm, Sharing a Body, Soft Chara, but they are also not good, chara is chara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakesandquarries/pseuds/lakesandquarries
Summary: The barrier is broken, monsters are free, and everyone is happy.
Well. Almost everyone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic with morally ambiguous Chara. If you prefer your Charas to be cruel and merciless, this is not the fic for you. If you prefer your Charas to be sweet and kind, this is also not the fic for you. 
> 
> Warning for discussion of self harm this chapter.
> 
> Perspective this chapter: Sans

The kid’s sitting on the kitchen floor with a knife the size of their forearm, looking it over like the meaning of life is hidden on it somewhere.

"Frisk," Sans says. They don’t respond. He sighs and tries again. "Chara."

They look up guiltily.

"Kid, put the knife away. It's four in the morning. You have school tomorrow."

Chara mumbles something, too quiet for Sans to understand.

"I can't hear you."

"...Had the nightmare again," they admit. "The part with the - where I -" The knife shakes in their grip. 

"Put down the knife, Chara," Sans says, kneeling down next to them. He takes their hands in his and slowly, by degrees, they loosen their grip. 

"I'm sorry," Chara says. They won't look at him.

"Kid," he starts, and Chara shakes their head, grip tightening on the knife again.

"You're going to say it's okay, that it wasn't my fault, but it's not, and it was. It's my fault you're awake right now. It's my fault you have nightmares." There’s something desperate in their voice, a frantic plea to be proven wrong and a certainty that Sans can’t.

"Kid - _Chara_ \- Look, I'd have nightmares anyways-" 

"You can't even make an argument against it! I _killed_ you! And Papyrus, and Undyne, and Mettaton, and Toriel, and I didn't even - I enjoyed it!" They finally look at Sans, and he almost wishes they hadn’t. The eyes always give it away. When it’s Frisk, their eyes are soft and warm. But Chara’s gaze is as sharp and cold as the knife they’re holding. The smile, too - it’s a subtle change, but Sans catches it. He can always tell. There’s a manic quality to Chara’s smile, an unspoken threat. “I liked it,” they say, smile getting wider and crueler, fingertips sliding on the blade. “I _liked_ it.”

"No, you didn't."

Chara blinks at him.

"If you did, you wouldn't be sitting here talking to me. You'd be trying to stab me. Or, no, you'd have already stabbed me. Look, I know you've done some sh -” No swearing, Sans reminds himself, the kid’s only 13 - “some bad things, but it's four in the morning and you've got school. Now's not the time. Everyone's alive, everyone’s fine." He tries to smile at them, as kind as he can manage at four am on barely any sleep. 

The mouth turns gentle. The eyes go soft.

"I tried to tell them that," Frisk says, "but -" they cut themself off. "Don't tell him that!" 

"Don't tell me what?" Sans asks.

Frisk speaks in a rush, barely understandable, fighting with Chara just to speak. "They were gonna - Stop! - with the knife they wanted to - _Shut up!_ -"

"Chara," Sans says. "You were going to do something to yourself with the knife. Right?"

"I deserve it," they say.

"Does Frisk?"

Chara stares at him, somewhere between shocked and angry, then carries on like Sans hadn’t spoken. "I don't deserve to be here! I'm just a, a _parasite_ , I'm gonna ruin everything and -"

"C'mere," Sans says, pulling them into a hug. They go stiff in his arms, the knife clattering against the tiled floor. "You're not gonna ruin anything. You deserve this just as much as anyone. You're not a parasite. And, look, if you can’t believe that..." he pulls away, just enough to see their face. “Even if you think _you_ deserve it - and you don’t - Frisk doesn’t. Right?”

They're shaking, eyes shut tight in attempt to keep tears away, but they nod. Sans pulls them close again, then releases them. "C'mon," he says. "Let's go to bed."

"I'm sorry," Chara whispers.

"I know," Sans says. "Do you wanna sleep in my room?"

They nod.

\---

It’d been weird, at first. Sans has never thought of himself as the dad type - sure, he kinda raised Papyrus, but so did all of Snowdin. He’s an older brother, at most. He’s never thought himself as someone trustworthy, either.

Frisk and Chara haven’t changed his mind. He’s still pretty sure he’s not cut out for this. But when Frisk had asked to talk to him a week after they broke the barrier, he’d said yes. When they made him promise not to tell anyone, he’d said yes.

He’d known it would be something big. He’d guessed about the other timelines - his nightmares showed him as much. 

He hadn’t guessed there was another human kid tagging along in Frisk’s body.

They - both of them - are asleep now. They’d passed out the second their face hit the bed, hadn’t even gotten under the covers before they started snoring. The kid’s a loud snorer. 

It’s a little adorable, if he’s being honest. Reminds him of when Papyrus was little.

Not for the first time, Sans wishes he hadn’t promised not to tell anyone. He’s not cut out for this, but Tori is, and she’d be overjoyed to learn her first human child was still alive in some way. Or, hell, even if they didn’t want him telling Tori, having someone else to talk to would be good. It takes a village to raise a child, after all. Raising two human children in one body is gonna take a damn city.

But he promised. And Sans, for all his faults, doesn’t break promises.

…He’ll have a talk with them though. Try and convince Chara that pretending they don’t exist isn’t gonna get either of them anywhere. Remind them that their family misses them. Maybe talk them into talking to Alphys - if anyone would understand the guilt and fear, it’d be her. Of course, that opens a new can of worms of making Alphys keep the secret, but...Well. It’s four am, no time for figuring out solid plans.

He turns off the light and goes to sleep.

\---

In the morning, the bed is empty. 

It’s a good sign, Sans thinks. Or maybe it’s more of a hope. 

“Kiddo in their room?” he asks Toriel as he trudges past her to get coffee. She’s a sight to behold in her bathrobe, a cheap fuzzy purple thing she’d bought at Target, paired with oversized slippers - no bunny ears, sadly, but still quite adorable - and her reading glasses on. Sans wants to curl up on her and go back to bed.

“Yes,” she says, not looking up from her crossword puzzle. Her glasses are perched on the end of her snout, looking about to fall. “I feel it’s safe to assume they had another nightmare last night?” She glances at Sans, that time.

“Yep,” he says. “Same one as usual.”

He leaves out the knife. That’s not his story to tell. 

“I worry about them,” Toriel says, casually, like she’d mention the weather, looking back down at her crossword puzzle. “Do they talk to you about their nightmares?”

They’ve never spelled out what their nightmares are about, no. But Sans can guess.

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Sans, I hope you aren’t offended by this, but...do you know why they choose to talk to you about them?” This time she looks at him, and she can’t keep the worry out of her expression, the way her eyebrows turn up and her mouth creases. 

“Tori, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I used to wake up screaming too.” Still do, technically. He’s just gotten better at hiding it. It’s not a lie, not really, at least.

“I see,” Tori murmurs, taking a sip of her coffee. “Can you...Well, I imagine you’re already talking to them.” She sighs, shoulders drooping. “I don’t know how I’m to help them when they try to hide what’s wrong.”

“They just need time,” Sans says.

“I know, I know. But...It’s been three months, Sans. Three months of them waking up screaming and sleepwalking. There has to be something I can do.” When she looks at him this time, he notices more than just her worried eyebrows - she’s got bags under her eyes, deep, like the ones he’d get sometimes. Not for the first time, Sans wishes he could make it so Tori never has to look like that again.

“...I’ll talk to them,” Sans says. “Tori, they adore you.” _Both of them,_ he adds internally. “You know that, right?”

“I know, Sans. I know.” She still looks sad, but Sans has just the ticket.

It’s a little embarrassing, having to go up on tiptoes to kiss Toriel’s cheek when she’s sitting down. But it’s worth it to see her white fur turn pink.

“I’ll see you after work,” he says, winking at her, then grabbing her mug of coffee and taking a long sip, getting a smile and half-giggle in response. “Don’t work yourself down to the bone.”

“You used that one yesterday,” Toriel says, laughing. “Have a good day at work, Sans.”

“You too, Tori.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Hercules" by Sara Bareilles. 
> 
> I have no idea how long this is gonna be! It depends on how I feel. But it's definitely gonna be multiple chapters, in a variety of perspectives. I've got a lot of headcanons about everyone, so feel free to ask me about anything! This isn't connected to any of my previous fics. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at lakesandquarries.tumblr.com.


End file.
